


A Strange (and Somewhat One-Sided) Conversation

by DrWholocked (Samilu)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Conversations with God, Gen, Humor, It's all Neptune Centari's fault, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samilu/pseuds/DrWholocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Right. Okay. Yes. So. Humans?” What has happened to his eloquence? This is ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strange (and Somewhat One-Sided) Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> So this little fic came about due to a weird Skype chat I had with Neptune Centari where we thought Sherlock meeting God would be hysterically funny. So I tried to write it. Tried, being the operative word. A bit of a strange thing for an atheist to do, but here it is anyway. A little fic I wrote in about 10 minutes.

“So,” he starts, a long drawn-out syllable, “you exist then. That’s…awkward”

“I have…a lot of questions” he continues, for the first time almost seeking permission to continue.

“Yes” is the not-audible response. Well, that’s not helpful is it? Does that mean ‘Yes, I know you have questions’ or ‘Yes you may ask your questions’? He chooses to interpret it as both.

“Right. Okay. Yes. So. Humans?” What has happened to his eloquence? This is ridiculous. He coughs, clears his throat. Swallows a few times. He’s sure his companion is aware he’s just buying time. It doesn't actually help at all.

“Yes. Humans. Why? I mean, what could have possessed you to design something so inherently flawed?” Right. That’s better. Much more articulate.

“The biology alone is nonsensical. We can’t see behind us. We have no protection for a majority of our vital organs. Our reproductive organs _hang about outside of our bodies_. Honestly. It’s like you gave no real thought to it at all.”

His companion continues to look at him with a vaguely amused and definitely tolerant half-smile. Or at least, that’s what it looks like. It’s not like he can see him clearly, after all. He’s very…bright.

“And then there are emotions! What benefit could they possibly have, in an evolutionary sense? And the PLATYPUS! I mean, they don’t even make _sense_!” He realises he’s now gone off on a completely pointless tangent and has yet to receive an answer to any of his questions.

“So…did you? Give us any thought I mean. This ridiculous design, why?”

His companion’s visage is less clear than it was before. Brighter. So bright it hurts his eyes; he squints, trying to see more clearly but it doesn't help.

“Tell me?” he calls. The light is getting brighter, but also further away. There’s a fading feeling of acceptance, a warmth he would almost call love if he believed in such things. Then all is darkness.

He blinks, the false-light of fluorescent tubing above him coming into slow focus. There’s a rhythmic beeping sound and a stale chemical smell. His hands scrabble for tactile contact; rough weave, stiff. Blanket. Ah right, hospital. He’s in hospital. He turns his head to the side and his eyes land on a blonde, weather-beaten face.

“Back with us, are you?” John smiles. He closes his eyes, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Just a dream then.


End file.
